


Sometimes we look through open windows

by darain39



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: How the hell do I tag this?, M/M, semi fluff, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darain39/pseuds/darain39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is like the sound you hear first thing when waking....(ahh that's actually a lie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes we look through open windows

**Author's Note:**

> FEELS x 1000000  
> Sue me

Especially when its quiet between them, Stiles sometimes wonders what it must feel like to come home from school and watch the last flames lick themselves lazily against what’s left of your home. To scream until your eyes leaked salt and the taste of copper was undeniably slick at the back of your throat. To scream at things that could ultimately not be saved. When grief smelt like smoke and tasted like ash. No better, he reckons, than taking the corner and spying the bed now made up, sheet pulled tightly, tucked in, empty. Where just a day before, even under the sickness and medicine, she'd still smelled like _'mom'_. And you pressed trembling lips against her temple, quietly breathing _“I'll see you tomorrow”_ as if it couldn’t be any other way. A strange way to learn not only fire can make you scream. Sometimes, when his palm is pressed flat against Derek's chest, he's still mildly surprised that his hand doesn't simply slip right through. Past muscle and heat and ribs and thrumming. Almost convinced the first time Derek is brave enough to pull him closer, he'd all but pass through the void his chest most surely contained. Yet, it had stopped and pushing back against the resistant flesh had only teased a knowing smile from Derek. Broad, open, trusting. Later, Derek would mumble, lips resting against Stiles' temple, his hot breath ghosting over the fine hairs, creating movement in the stillness between them. _“Maybe you've filled it, you're a little bit magic like that Stiles. Let that be enough.”_ And honestly, they fit so tightly together there is no space for secrets, yet each hears the half truth in the words, not hollow but not quite fact. It doesn't stop him from feeling complete. He quips at Derek that he's Batman so naturally that means he's already a little magic. Derek kisses the corner of his mouth to keep him quiet. Neither needs to deny being saved or acknowledge the sun that's found its way into their bedroom, trapped amongst fabric and window. What is cold glass compared to the heat between them?


End file.
